Vibe Terrorist
Yes.
Not a question. A command.
Isar obeyed instantly.
The weave made up of dozens and dozens of strands running from his mind to those on the dance floor below crackled with power in the Force as Isar delved into the aphotic power of the Dark Side and drank from that intoxicating well. He would fulfill her desire. Every bit of it. To the last drop.
He ratcheted up the pleasure he'd been siphoning from their minds, no longer sipping away but tearing the sensations from their minds one by one and channeling the kaleidoscoping whorl of endorphins and oxytocin into Alcariel in such amounts that any non-Force User's mind would fry out from the sensory overload like a sparking, overheated computer.
The Dark Jedi shuddered beneath her touch, the rake of her nails on his scalp setting his nerves alight.
Everything.
Isar had one hand bound up in her locks of silvery-white hair. The other traced up a thigh, found the hem of that clinging dress, and roved beneath until he gripped her at the hip, fingers tightening until they stippled the skin.
Breath sawed in and out and his brow beaded with sweat from focus as, eyes closing, Isar found the terminus of every thread connecting their minds to the others, gathering up the weave like wrapping ropes around his hand, then he yanked hard and unplugged them all at once.
Below, quivering bodies thudded to the floor. The thrum of the music thudded on, but the dancing ceased immediately as the people went into a frenzy of crushing despair, their pleasure torn from them... and delivered to
Alcariel
. A detonation of ecstasy even greater than the one before.
"Can you handle it?"
Not a question. A command.
Isar obeyed instantly.
The weave made up of dozens and dozens of strands running from his mind to those on the dance floor below crackled with power in the Force as Isar delved into the aphotic power of the Dark Side and drank from that intoxicating well. He would fulfill her desire. Every bit of it. To the last drop.
He ratcheted up the pleasure he'd been siphoning from their minds, no longer sipping away but tearing the sensations from their minds one by one and channeling the kaleidoscoping whorl of endorphins and oxytocin into Alcariel in such amounts that any non-Force User's mind would fry out from the sensory overload like a sparking, overheated computer.
The Dark Jedi shuddered beneath her touch, the rake of her nails on his scalp setting his nerves alight.
Everything.
Isar had one hand bound up in her locks of silvery-white hair. The other traced up a thigh, found the hem of that clinging dress, and roved beneath until he gripped her at the hip, fingers tightening until they stippled the skin.
Breath sawed in and out and his brow beaded with sweat from focus as, eyes closing, Isar found the terminus of every thread connecting their minds to the others, gathering up the weave like wrapping ropes around his hand, then he yanked hard and unplugged them all at once.
Below, quivering bodies thudded to the floor. The thrum of the music thudded on, but the dancing ceased immediately as the people went into a frenzy of crushing despair, their pleasure torn from them... and delivered to
Alcariel
. A detonation of ecstasy even greater than the one before."Can you handle it?"